


Wild Honey Pie

by Jmetropolis



Series: You're the One [10]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Adulthood, Aged-Up Character(s), Childhood Friends, Friendship, Gift Fic, KNBSecretSanta2020, Moving, Secret Santa, Work, momoi-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmetropolis/pseuds/Jmetropolis
Summary: Momoi Satsuki starts feeding a stray.
Relationships: Aomine Daiki & Momoi Satsuki, mentioned Kagakuro - Relationship, mentioned Midotaka - Relationship
Series: You're the One [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/123243
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	Wild Honey Pie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nobeliumoxygenoxygen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobeliumoxygenoxygen/gifts).



**Wild Honey Pie**

Momoi Satsuki was accustomed to her busy schedule. In fact, it had long been a source of pride for her. Satsuki was an expert at multi-tasking. She could juggle many important tasks at the same time and in three-inch stiletto heels to boot. Satsuki's jammed-pack schedule was irrefutable proof that she had her life together. That _she herself_ was put together. That she was doing something with herself and that she was going places. 

Never a dull moment. Never any free time. Some would say idle hands were the Devil's work, or some such nonsense. _Pish posh_. In Satsuki's estimation, idle hands were the perfect opportunity for a French manicure.

Unlike _some_ of her friends who were still ambling about, trying to figure out what to make of themselves, Satsuki had landed her dream job straight out of college.

As long as she could remember, Satsuki had always been _very_ good at gathering intel, analyzing opponents and predicting future behavior. Naturally, these were skills that were highly coveted in the cut-throat financial services industry. These skills could have also translated seamlessly into matters of international espionage. But Satsuki didn't really feel like lying to her mother _too much_ about her personal life. It was bad enough she had to dodge prying parental inquiries into her love life. At least this way, she could be upfront about what she did for a living. 

Momoi Satsuki had been offered a coveted position as an associate at a prestigious private equity firm in the Financial District. There, she would spend her days voraciously reading every relevant piece of information she could get her hands on. This year alone, she had deftly recommended that one of the firm's investors acquire a startup which was on the cusp of obtaining a government patent for a breakthrough in chemotherapy delivery technology and that another investor spin-off its component plastics subsidiary just as news of eco-friendly packaging was hitting the airways. Momoi Satsuki kept her investor-clients _very_ happy and naturally, her bosses loved her for it. 

Marunouchi was the heart and soul of Tokyo's Financial District and after three years, had become Satsuki's stomping ground. Satsuki had thoroughly researched the area. She knew all the best restaurants in the district. Satsuki had hand-selected the perfect place for every occasion. From the three-starred, white-gloved establishments where Satsuki would wine and dine the firm's most important clients to the hole-in-the-wall, mom-and-pop-shop that was so close to the railroad tracks, it shook her steaming bowl of the-best-tonkotsu-ramen every time the Shinkansen whizzed by -- Satsuki knew them all. 

And her knowledge of the district wasn't just limited to eateries. Satsuki knew the names and biographical information of every employee in her firm and made it a point of pride to place a specially selected treat on each person's desk on their birthday. Of course, Satsuki didn't have time to personally go out and purchase a chestnut Mont Blanc from that pastry shop in Tokyo Station to congratulate Fujimora-san on his recent promotion or to send that hand-painted watercolor of adzuki beans arranged in a heart with a handwritten note to Midorin on his birthday. Satsuki knew Takao-kun would get a kick out of the hokey-but-endearing-message of _Bean Thinking of You_. Satsuki's assistant had gotten very good at imitating Satsuki's swirly, girly handwriting which Satsuki had perfected in junior high and Tetsu had once so aptly described as, _if the color pink were an alphabet_ , after receiving one of Satsuki's many, many perfumed love missives -- every last one had been addressed to him. 

Satsuki sighed at the fond memory. For all her talent at sizing people up, Tetsu had been the only person she could not predict. Perhaps it had been the reason she'd been attracted to him in the first place. Of course, it had turned out that Tetsu could no more requite besotted-school-girl Satsuki's feelings, than he could return the feelings of a potted plant. He simply wasn't attracted to her specifically and to girls in general. Satsuki supposed she'd always had a blindspot when it came to her own romantic liaisons. 

And while Satsuki could not figure out Tetsu, there was no similar aura of mystery surrounding Kagami Taiga.

Kagamin was as simple as they came. Satsuki had immediately figured out he was kind-hearted and considerate, someone who could take care of her precious Tetsu. Satsuki took one millisecond to mourn her imagined life with Tetsu, several minutes to gather up and throw out that used popsicle stick Tetsu had once given her -- the one that had launched a thousand daydreams -- and all the notebooks she'd filled with scribbled hearts, cupids and the fabled name "Kuroko Satsuki" along with each and every one of their imagined children (5 girls and 5 boys, because middle school Satsuki had been a wild-eyed child who'd dreamed of fielding her own basketball team, and also she'd never considered the impracticality of being pregnant for 90 months of her life - _yikes_!) -- and rallied around this new budding relationship between the two Seirin teammates. Because if there was one thing Satsuki truly enjoyed, it was cheerleading her friends. 

Satsuki was on her way to her thrice-weekly waxing appointment with Miyuki-kun. _No_ , not _three times_ a week -- that would be masochistic levels of painful and also completely useless. Every three weeks, without fail, since college Satsuki had a standing appointment with Miyuki-kun. She had kept this strict regimen even now, in the dead of winter and with no romantic prospects in sight because Satsuki felt it was important to be put together for oneself and also what if she had a horrible accident and ended up at the hospital and what would the hospital staff think if her um, _hedges_ weren't neatly trimmed into a tiny pink triangle, equal on all sides, measured by ruler with geometric precision. Miyuki-kun was a professional and _very_ committed to her craft. 

Unfortunately for Satsuki today was not her day. _What do you mean Miyuki-kun moved to_ _Miyajima?_ Something about this had sounded mildly familiar to Satsuki, like Miyuki-kun had mentioned it at her last appointment, but Satsuki had been juggling so many things at once, it must've slipped her mind. 

After returning from her disappointing lunch break with a not-so-symmetrical triangle, more like an isosceles in her silk knickers, _really_ , Satsuki was surprised to find her boss waiting for her in her office. 

Satsuki hated surprises, and with good reason. _What do you mean you are transferring me to Shinjuku?_

Apparently Satsuki had been _too_ _good_ at her job. One of the firm's major investors absolutely loved Satsuki and requested that she move to the equity firm's Shinjuku branch so she could be closer to the investor's corporate headquarters. 

"Good thing they're not located in Hokkaido," Satsuki had feebly joked. 

###

Satsuki moved into her new apartment in not-Marunouchi in dreary February. She'd enlisted Dai-chan's _help_ with the move. Or at least, she thought she had.

Since this was a company-related move, the firm had paid for all the moving expenses. Still, Satsuki didn't feel comfortable meeting the movers by herself in an empty, one-bedroom apartment. So she'd asked Dai-chan to come over and not necessarily lie about anything, but act like it was his apartment too.

Making himself comfortable in other people’s homes was of course second nature to Dai-chan as he opened the refrigerator door and helped himself to all of Satsuki’s sports drinks.

After the movers had left, Satsuki had expected Dai-chan to help her unpack. But of course, the first box he'd happened to open contained Satsuki's well-stocked undergarments from charmeuse to Chantilly lace. Aomine had pulled out an especially sheer specimen and held it up to the light the way a medical professional would examine the radiograph of a particularly interesting compound fracture. 

"Are these your battle panties? They're pretty bold."

"Give me _that_ ," a furiously blushing Satsuki snatched the item in question -- a midnight black little number in Swiss dot tulle and ruffles with a daring open gusset design -- and her box of frilly unmentionables back from prying hands. She hurriedly stashed them at the back of her enormous new walk-in-closet, _for now_. 

"I'm sure Risa-san," an out-of-breath Satsuki was quick to point out, "has similar _underthings_." 

"Hell yeah, she does!" Aomine smiled wolfishly at what Satsuki could only imagine was a lurid memory of his girlfriend. "But nothing like that. And she definitely doesn't have something like _this_." 

And of course, the next box Dai-chan had randomly selected contained various, um, _electronics_ destined for Satsuki's boudoir chest. Satsuki could tell just by looking at that shit-eating grim plastered on that stupid face of his.

"Get Out!" She ordered, having decided it was best to put her own bedroom in order without any assistance from an uncouth jejune.

Satsuki had expected Dai-chan to have at least emptied the contents of the boxes marked "kitchen" or at the very least, found the kettle, so they could brew some tea. Instead, she found Dai-chan napping on her pristine white sofa, stained socked feet propped up on one of the arm rests. 

Still, there had been one bright spot -- a good omen, if you will -- on the day Satsuki moved in. Late that night, Satsuki had finished flattening her moving boxes and was tying stacks of them up with string, when she heard faint noise coming from the direction of her balcony. A tiny white kitten scratching at the glass door, trying to make his way into the warmth of her home (and her heart).

Satsuki named the stray "Yuki" because his fluffy white coat reminded her of a snowball. She fished a can of Patagonia smoked salmon from the bountiful, gourmet housewarming basket her guilt-ridden boss had had delivered to her apartment earlier in the day, in a misguided attempt to overcompensate for a move neither one of them had wanted.

Thankfully, the can of salmon was of the pull-tab design, because Satsuki had no clue where Dai-chan had placed her can-opener. After berating Dai-chan for being lazy and falling asleep on her sofa, he'd taken revenge on Satsuki by "organizing" her kitchen in the most inane way imaginable. She'd found a salad plate in the drawer closest to the stove and a single chopstick in the refrigerator. _Honestly, he was such a child!_

Satsuki knew an opportunity when she saw one. She took advantage of the fact that Yuki was much too distracted with his delicious gourmet meal, to object to a stranger running her manicured fingers down his back. _I'm good at taking care of things_ , Satsuki thought proudly, as she petted Yuki's soft, surprisingly-clean-for-a-stray fur. 

Unfortunately, Satsuki's life with Yuki was short-lived. _No_ , he didn't die or anything tragic. It turned out that Yuki was living under an assumed identity. The jig was up the following morning when Satsuki went downstairs to the lobby to check her mailbox for the first time and noticed a missing kitty poster on the cork board where some of the other residents had placed announcements for guitar lessons and gently used furniture for sale. 

It turned out that Yuki was not a stray at all. And, expectedly, his real name wasn't Yuki, at all. His real name was Lady Killer, which Satsuki thought was an ill-fitting name for a tiny kitten. It turned out that Killer belonged to her next door neighbor whose balcony was adjacent to her own. Killer's owner, er dad?, traveled often for work and Killer's cat sitter had accidentally left the window open a few days ago. 

Shortly after Yuki _er_ , Killer's untimely departure, Satsuki started feeding another stray. A foulmouthed one who wasn't nearly as endearing. 

"Hey Satsuki, this tonkotsu ramen tastes like shit," Aomine, the ingrate, indelicately griped, "we should go back to that mom-and-pop shop near the railroad tracks."

They were eating takeout ramen out of a mixing bowl and the bottom half of a lacquered bento box, because three-weeks after her move Satsuki still couldn't find where Aomine had "stored" her soup bowls.

Aomine unwrapped another rice ball and popped it into his mouth, which despite what the "ball" descriptor would imply, were triangular in shape. 

Which reminded Satsuki, she was due for a waxing appointment. 

* * *

**AN** : This was written for Mhy (nobeliumoxygenoxygen) for the Kuroko No Basket Secret Santa 2020. I hope you like it. 


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